


Clarity in Duality

by orphan_account



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Trans Male Character, Trans Sheik, Trans Zelda, spirituality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheik struggles to conflate his male and female identities, both characterized by duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity in Duality

**Author's Note:**

> I like exploring Zelda as the descendant of Hylia. Since she's somewhat of a "lesser" deity, I figured she'd be more apt to directly communicate with Sheik/Zelda than, say, Naryu. 
> 
> The different religious groups referenced are based on real life equivalents, wherein gender identity was heavily tied to spiritual practice.

Sheik was born by the blade, in blood and strife. Impa worked him to the bone in training, but each successive morning he awoke less bruised than the day before. They stuck to the borders of Hyrule, always far away from the kingdom. Sometimes Sheik stood outside and stared at the black mass of clouds in the distance, wondering what was happening within the castle walls. During these moments Impa left him undisturbed, even if that night's stew had grown just as cold as the temperature outside.

They kept to themselves, doing the Goddesses' bidding in secret from village to village, slaying hoards of monsters which were slowly overtaking the land. Impa kept a map of old, abandoned Sheikah hideouts where they slept and ate. As they cleared dust and dead rats Impa would speak of the tribe's history; Sheik began to suspect his persona was chosen for other reasons outside of necessity, namely nostalgia.

Focused only on the future, Sheik's past of feasts, silk dresses, and days spent in leisure slipped away from him. In preparation for Link's far-off arrival, he and Impa searched ruins for ancient scrolls depicting the prophecies foretold, and scoured hidden morgues for sacred artifacts. In a small monastery dedicated to Hylia, Sheik had his first vision since the dream of Gannondorf's coming: a war torn world, demonic armies, giant clouds in the sky. There was a woman's marvelous voice; it pierced through his skin and wrapped around his heart; it said: I am you.

He stood in the middle of the dais, warm and still. Impa called his name from the other room. He didn't rouse until a few moments later, when rain began to fall through the holes in the crumbling ceiling. That night he dreamt of long blond hair and slender hands, perhaps what he would have looked like had he remained a princess; now, he just saw a stranger.

His first mission alone was supposed to be easy. He was fourteen. There'd been talk of strange activity in a fishing village; Impa was busy with studying the lore on the three spiritual stones and sent Sheik to investigate in her stead. Once he arrived at the village he was lead to an old mill, where something was groaning from inside. It was a young orphan girl hogtied around the wrists and ankles. Her skin was red and bleeding. The mill's owner had taken pity on her when the town threatened to drown her, and saved her from their wrath.

As Sheik bent beside the girl he was wracked with images of civilians writhing in their beds, the same voice from the monastery communicating that this affliction has appeared before. Suddenly he remembered an antidote from nothing and rushed to the village's alchemist. When he returned to the mill he found the orphan dead with her neck slit open, and the voice in his head said Lesser men destroy what they cannot comprehend—the empathetic mill owner was holding a knife covered in blood, tears streaming down his face. He called it mercy.

Sheik returned to the forest that evening haggard and silent. Impa looked up from her books, saw the look in his eyes, and suggested he bathe in the lake behind their shack. He stripped underneath the cover of the trees, but still felt vulnerable and exposed, growing more and more uncomfortable without his weapons, wrappings, and disguise. But perhaps the discomfort came from some deeper source, too, for Sheik could not look down at his naked body without disgust, or glance into a mirror without recoiling, especially once he had started to bleed.

Something soft touched his clavicle, warm fingers tracing the bone, and once again he was gifted with divine wisdom. He closed his eyes. Wind rushed into his ears and his chest blossomed with heat. When Sheik looked back down his chest was flat, tingling with the after effects of master alteration magic.

He had already become lean and muscular with his training, but in the passing weeks his shoulders broadened, hips narrowed, and voice dropped, as he almost effortlessly improved his bodily disguise.  
  
Impa cornered him one day as he was dislodging his smallsword from the gut of a boblikin. “You've grown,” she said.

Sheik cleaned his blade with a scrap of cloth, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with his mentor. “I will be fifteen soon.”

Impa hummed. “Would you like a new dress?”

Sheik smirked. “Maybe something a bit more practical.”

“Oh, I have a few things in mind,” Impa grinned.

On the day of his birth she presented him with a weathered journal bound with leather and closed with a clasp. The pages were frayed and yellowed.

“I found this on our last expedition, near Kakariko,” Impa said. “I thought it might interest you.”

Sheik went to the lake and opened the book. There were no dates, names, or locations written. The author talked about becoming a man within his tribe, though he was born as a woman. Shiek's eyes widened; he traced the words with his fingertips. Later, Impa explained there were many people with different gender expressions during the height of the Sheikah's age. They were considered especially gifted in the art of shadow and deception and were lauded as supreme warriors; caught in between or outside of the two genders gave them an advantage in dealing with the dark unknown.

“But this...this isn't real,” Sheik said. He fisted in his hands in his lap. “Once Link comes back, once Gannondorf is defeated... I have to become Zelda again.”

Impa sat beside him, in her warmly distant way. “As a Sheikah, your first priority is the path the Goddesses have chosen for you. You will be a great ruler; that does not mean you must be a woman”

“But I'm not a Sheikah,” Sheik insisted. “I'm Hylian.”

“You are both.” Impa's voice was sharp, but her gaze was gentle. “You are enough. You are my son.”

Sheik's face crumpled. He turned into Impa's shoulder and cried. That night he dreamt of open forests and the beautiful voice again, whispering inaudible words into his ears.  
  
Soon, there was only a year left until Link returned. It felt like it had been eons since the fall of Hyrule. Sheik threw himself into his work, drowning out his inner crises with blood and dirt and sore muscles. He exhausted himself until all he could do was sleep dreamlessly. The voice was becoming more relentless in its messages, most of which Sheik could not decipher. He saw random fragmented memories from other worlds and did not know what to do with them.

A year shortened to eight months, then four, then one. Impa grew detached, but Sheik constantly caught her staring at him. One night she tucked him into bed and sang a Sheikah lullaby, like she had when Sheik was small and soft in his giant royal bed and flannel nightgown.

The next morning he woke up alone, and knew Impa left to fulfill her role as the Sage of Shadow.

The successive days stretched on, quiet and lonely. Sheik sharpened his weapons, concocted poisons, and perfected his skills by slaying lesser ghouls in the forest. During one such battle an armored stalfos suddenly appeared from the dark and threw Sheik across the clearing. He landed face down, unable to breathe, and stayed still even as the stalfos approached.

For years, the return of his kingdom was all that gave him hope, but ever since he realized his true identity and rejected his female title, that hope simultaneously filled him with dread. Even if Link defeated Gannondorf, Sheik would still have to become a woman once more. He considered remaining prone on the forest floor and allowing the stalfos to kill him easily with one bash to the head.

But then warm invisible arms embraced Sheik and gave him the strength to go on. He rose, bent his legs, and vaulted toward the stalfos as it raised its shield, striking its weak center during a nanosecond of exposure. The monster stumbled, stunned, and Sheik slashed a finishing blow. Bones rattled to the forest floor before disappearing in a column of purple smoke. Sheik stood, panting and sweating in its wake, his red eyes glowing through the remnants of the fog.

The hideout felt more lonesome than ever that evening. Sheik stoked a small fire to cook a bowl of rice, and pored over the cache of texts piled along the walls. He read accounts by spiritual guides of old, castrated priestesses, women who took on the names of men to become monks or great warriors. Afterward, Sheik went out to the lake and meditated naked, up to his shoulders in water. Once he dissolved into the rise and fall of his breath he lost his sense of time, and felt only fish and water plants skimming his feet.

A great white light appeared; with it Sheik heard laughter as pleasant as ringing bells. He gasped and trashed in the water, eyes flying open. “I don’t understand you,” he miserably said aloud.

The lake looked the same as ever, nestled under the cover of thick trees, but Sheik felt deeply changed and trembled all over. Yet he felt compelled to stay, and, as with the stalfos, newfound resolution steeled his gaze. He no longer had Impa to advise him, and regardless of his inevitable responsibilities, they were not troubling him presently; all he had to be and could be now was Sheik. Whether or not Sheik was just a false disguise, by now it had become a truer entity than Zelda—he could not afford to remain as a little girl or fearful young boy. It was time to become a man, for that was what the circumstances demanded, and what the Goddesses had chosen.

Calmed once more, Sheik closed his eyes. The voice, whom he now recognized as Hylia, returned in full clarity.

“You have awoken,” She said.

Yes, Sheik answered.

“Sage of Light, Son of Shadow. You alone can wield these two opposing elements. Both will aid the Hero of Time, and vanquish evil.”

What will happen afterward? Sheik asked.

The Goddess laughed heartily. “Naryu’s chosen one—seek your own wisdom and find the truth! Man and Woman. Light and Shadow. Princess and Rogue. What are these words but arbitrary labels? One does not exist in ultimatum.”

The leaves rustled gently, and a wave of water crested over Sheik’s shoulders as Hylia departed. Sheik redressed, went back to the hideout, and packed away the texts he and Impa had found, along with their meager belongings. The next morning, Sheik bowed his head and set his palms against the front door, and the small building was hidden once more in a group of trees.

Sheik threw a Deku nut onto the ground, and left for the Temple of Time.

 


End file.
